


a good-talking candle

by galacticdrift (Ancalime)



Series: fragile gifts [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Family Member Death, Grief/Mourning, M/M, barely shippy tbh, mostly just Sad Cad Hours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-30 07:44:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21424675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ancalime/pseuds/galacticdrift
Summary: I was gonna do a "5 things" type fic with examinations of different possibilities regarding the current status of the rest of Cad's family, but these two clamored to get out first and then I felt like I didn't have that much else to really dig into with the other three.Work & series titles from Richard Brautigan again, because he's just got a real strong Cad vibe.
Relationships: Caduceus Clay/Fjord
Series: fragile gifts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1544551
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	a good-talking candle

When he slips inside, the room is dark, but Caduceus is still up, large eyes catching the moonlight through the open window, and Fjord lifts a hand in greeting.

"You ready to turn in for the night?"

"Just about." Bustling about the room, Fjord shucks his armor and surcoat, changing into the light linen pants he keeps for sleeping in. "Sorry if I kept you up waiting."

"Not at all." Caduceus sounds thoughtful. In the dim light, Fjord can see a furrow between his brows.

"Are you excited to get back to the Grove?"

"Mmm." Cad smiles at him, something brighter and more giddy than usual, and Fjord can't help but respond in kind.

"When it's done, you should have Jester message all your family members to tell them they can come home."

Unexpectedly, Cad's expression turns brittle. It's subtle, and Fjord can think of a time when he definitely wouldn't have caught it. "I'm sure they'll figure it out and make their way back in their own time."

"What if they don't? Don't you want them to _ know_?"

Cad looks away without answering, his brows drawing together as he knits his fingers together in his lap.

"Deuces? What's wrong?" Fjord takes a seat, perching on the edge of the bed.

Cad's silence continues for a long few moments, though now Fjord can tell that he's working his way around to saying something. "As far as I know, my entire family is-- somewhere out there. In Wildemount, I assume, though it's not beyond the realm of possibility that some of them might have gone to other continents."

When Cad glances over at him, Fjord can only offer a short shrug, his hands spread. "Yes? I'm afraid don't follow."

He sighs. "If I never-- if my sister Clarabelle never returns to the Grove, then unless I find out otherwise, to me she's-- just off living her life, doing something with it that seemed more important than the quest that took her away from the Grove. I can simply be irritated at her choices and keep hoping that someday, she _will_ come back."

"...Oh."

"I know it's--" Cad breaks off. Stares down at his hands as worries at the bedsheets, picking at a loose thread. "A long time ago-- _decades_ ago, when I was still _very_ young and just starting to help my family with the business of the Grove, my mother's father passed away. It was-- not entirely unexpected; he was old, and my guess is that he simply chose to move on without warning any of the rest of the family ahead of time."

"He didn't live at the Grove, so I had only met him a few times. He was a good man, and I loved him as a family member, of course, but I wasn't very close with him. Not like my mother was." Cad looks up, but only to stare at the wall, his expression distant as he looks back into his own past. "I was so-- _confused_ by her grief. I thought we were above such things because we were the grave-givers, the ones who knew he had gone to the Wildmother's embrace. We were _better_ than those we helped, the ones consumed by their grief; we _knew_ better."

"But, of course, that's not how any of it works." Cad finally looks over. The sadness in his wise smile makes something twist in Fjord's chest. "My father sat me down and explained that no matter how much you know about death, about grief and grieving, no matter how much you can make yourself a comfort and consolation and a beacon of light to the ones who come to you in their times of deepest sadness-- someday it will be your turn, and you'll be floundering in the dark just the same."

"Even after that, for a long time I only understood it in the way you accept that your elders know these things better than you do. Until my mother passed away." An involuntary noise escapes Fjord. He can't bear it any longer and climbs fully onto the bed next to Cad, grabbing his hand and lacing their fingers together, pressing his shoulder against Cad's as though he could grant some kind of support through skin contact alone.

"Her death was sudden -- she was attacked in the Savalirwood and barely made it back to the Grove before the poison took her. I couldn't wrap my mind around how it felt-- so different, to see the body of someone _I_ loved on the bier. Someone who had been so vibrant and alive just a matter of days beforehand--" Cad shakes his head. "You never really _get_ it until you've felt it yourself. It's always-- harder."

Fjord hums, stroking the back of Cad's hand with his thumb.

"One by one, my family left the Blooming Grove. For all I know, they're still alive."

"I understand." Fjord draws Cad's hand up and gently lays a kiss on the knuckles. Cad stares at him, expression shuffling through emotions like a deck of cards.

"I'm afraid. I don't-- want to have to know how many of them are dead. After this long, I can't harbor any illusions that they've _all_ survived; I've nearly died repeatedly, and I've had our group to travel with. They each left alone, and it's been so long with no news--" Cad's breath hitches on the inhale. "I don't know how many of them I'll have to bear the grief for. It's-- hard, knowing that pain is coming, but not knowing when or how much."

Fjord squeezes Cad's hand, considering his words before letting them out. "What did you tell the families of those buried in the Grove? When they struggled under the weight of their grief."

"That--" Cad swallows hard, tips his head back to rest against the headboard behind them, taking on the cadence of a recitation worn smooth with handling over the years. "Even grief is-- a gift. To the departed and the grieving both. To care so much, and to have been cared for so much, that the loss of someone could be such a heavy thing."

"Then-- to reject it--"

"Is to diminish what the departed meant to you." Cad's voice is even, but his eyes screw shut.

Fjord leans against him in the darkness of the room, all his words sticking in his throat.

"Thank you," Cad says eventually, his hand squeezing Fjord's.

He makes an unhappy questioning noise. "I haven't done anything--"

Cad lifts their joined hands and looks at him, lips tilting upward.

"Yes, all right."

"This isn't nothing."

"I wish I could help more."

"How much more can a person ask, than to have someone hold their hand in the dark and listen to their fears and comfort them?" This time Cad's the one who brings their joined hands to his lips to kiss Fjord's knuckles. "It helps. Thank you, Fjord."

"You're welcome." Fjord keeps most of the grumble out of his voice. "Get some sleep."

**Author's Note:**

>   
I had a good-talking candle  
last night in my bedroom.
> 
> I was very tired but I wanted  
somebody to be with me,  
so I lit a candle 
> 
> and listened to its comfortable  
voice of light until I was asleep.  
\- Richard Brautigan


End file.
